Mixed Minds
by Lithium Choker
Summary: SSHG No one understands it and no one knows how to fix it. When Hermione and Snape both end up unwanted guests (possibly permanent residents) of the other's mind how can life go on normally?


_**Mixed Minds**_

By: Snakecharmer11

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling, you absolutely fabulous woman, I couldn't never dream to claim your characters.

O

Everywhere there was death.

The air, spattered with glimmering silver stars and darkest blue, was chilling. It was electrified and chilling.

Hermione held herself straight and steady as she picked her way through the destruction along with all other living souls that were able to walk. Relief filled all their hearts and gave them strength but there was no joy. It was all over. The first hours saw the exhausted warriors foraging for life amongst a field of death.

The green grass was dark and dewy and too tall, dragging at her feet as she climbed the small hill to search the shrubbery. She kept her wand clenched tight in her fist and pointing ahead of her, lighting a small path for her.

Her hair was matted with mud, her robes were torn and her limbs ached with curses she would tend to later. She had been one of the lucky ones.

Her ears were filled with moans and whimpers of pain that carried through the air across the hilly heaths.

The shrubbery was harder to move through. She stepped lightly and had to work slowly to make sure there was not a fallen member of the Light that needed assistance.

At first she didn't know those fine black strands were, tangled amongst the thorny branches of a bramble bush. She moved closer, frowning as she reached out to gently touch the out of place substance.

It was a small clump of long black hair that had been torn out of a persons head.

She shivered and let go of the hair, letting it fall into the thick grass and straightening. This night may be the mark of an era of light but it was no cause for celebration. For those who did not fight this battle, then maybe. But for those who were here, there would be no celebrating.

The light from her wand fell on something at a distance, half obscured by bushes. A person. Dead? Injured? It was her duty to go and see.

As she approached the figure dressed in black, she saw he owned the hair she had just found. He had collapsed on his side and Hermione raked the image with her eyes, already certain that this person was dead. She had looked into the eyes of too many dead people tonight. She was reluctant to do it again.

Sighing softly and mentally preparing herself, she tentatively took hold of his shoulder and heaved him onto his back. His shoulder was cold. He rolled onto his back and Hermione was given good view of his face.

She suddenly inhaled sharply and flinched violently backward and for several moments kneeled frozen in place as she stared at the face that was all too familiar.

Snape laid at her knees, limp, either unconscious or dead... His black eyes that shot through you like poisoned darts had glazed and lost their snide edge and looked docile in a way that didn't suit him. His pale features were even paler and he was battle-worn. It was a shock.

Her lips mouthed the silent words "Professor Snape?" but she felt helpless knowing he couldn't hear her.

Slowly, she raised a hand to her mouth and the other shakily moved towards his cold wrist. She grimaced behind her hand as she groped for his wrist in the wet grass and found it.

No pulse.

She shouldn't have hoped for more but she couldn't help the surge of regret she felt for this cold man that had saved so many lives. She couldn't imagine living his life, the pain and seclusion. He was always misjudged as evil, which he wasn't. He just wasn't sociable.

Thinking of these things and how he deserved better than this took her away from the present for a moment.

She automatically raised a weary hand to brush away some of her bushy hair but had hardly lifted it when the cold, dead hand she had just examined shot out and grabbed her wrist sharply.

She shrieked in surprise and tried to pull her wrist free but the long pale fingers were wrapped too tightly around her skin. The shriek carried into the air and over the heaths. Her heart jumped in horror and she struggled to peel his icy fingers away from her flesh in wild scrabbling movements.

Once she had pried the hand off of her it just fell limply to its owner's side and she shuffled backwards in repulsion and shock through the thick grass on her knees. Her wand lay, dropped, in the growth and cast broken shadows and light onto the offending hand.

Breathing deeply, Hermione went over what exactly had just happened: dead Snape (there was no mistaking him as dead) had just grabbed her wrist. There were still imprints from his cold fingers to prove her mind was not tricking her.

She shook and her heart sped up instead of slowing down as she was faced with an unsolvable puzzle. And worse than that, she felt fear. She couldn't make sense of it and trying to convince herself it had been merely a hallucination was impossible.

Her shriek had obviously caught the others' attention because she could hear far off yelling, coming closer but she was only vaguely aware of this. A dead man had grabbed her. And not just any dead man... dead Snape.

Something related to morbid curiosity made her hesitantly move closer to the body once more. Her eyes were wide in a mixture of horror and wonder and she approached with serious caution. Once she was close enough to, she snatched her wand out of the grass as quickly as she could, never removing her eyes from his possessed hand.

There was not as much as a twitch in his fingers.

Gaining a little more confidence at that, she moved closer still and began to wonder. Reason told her that either she had been imagining it or he wasn't dead. Was it possible she had mistaken him? The coldness in his flesh could just be from the air pervading him after the battle had weakened him. In that case he needed assistance desperately. And his eyes may be glazed from some curse, increasing the criticalness of his state. And the pulse... maybe that had been her own fault in somehow she could not find it.

So was he alive?

Hesitantly, she leaned over so that her cheek was just in front of his face, laying a hand on his cold chest. Her own strong pulse was now down to hopeful excitement instead of fear. But she could feel no breath on her cheeks. Her hope faltered and she could feel his black eyes looking right through her at the nothing she couldn't see.

The voices and shouts were nearly on top of her now; they had definitely entered the shrubbery. Maybe Professor Dumbledore would be there with answers.

She pulled away but didn't give up entirely. Gingerly she moved the hand that rested on his chest to his neck. Maybe she could find a weak pulse... She knew her hope was not so much out of needing to see the professor alive again, but to provide an explanation for what had happened. She was sick at herself but applied light pressure to the dead flesh of his neck just the same.

No pulse.

And she was not surprised but could not help the disappointment. Her eyes flickered over the corpse of what had been an intelligent, withdrawn, powerful man. The smooth grasses were threatening to swallow him into the earth. He looked at peace but in a way that was uncomfortable: being at peace did not become the stiffness and propriety she had associated with him.

"Miss Granger..." A voice so close over her shoulder made her start. She looked up through the dark and could barely make out the features of another past professor. This was the face of reason and Hermione felt hope that McGonagall would provide the logical explanation she failed to find.

McGonagall's voice died in her throat at the sight of the corpse. There was a moment's silence were it was clear other voices had almost reached them. She stared at Snape for a few heavy moments before swallowing and turning back to Hermione.

"Was it you who screamed?" her voice was an octave higher but contained to its usual rigidity. A couple of bushes rustled and two black figures Hermione didn't recognise joined them. Then from in front of her a person stepped over the bramble bush where she had found the hair.

"I thought... I had just considered Professor Snape... dead..." she took a deep breath of frosty air, "but... then he grabbed my wrist... but I'm pretty certain he _is_ dead..." she bit her lip and looked up to her superior. No matter how old Hermione grew to be, McGonagall was always her superior.

But there was no comfort in the confused frown and pursed lips as McGonagall eyed _her_, rather than Snape with scepticism. Two of the figures were whispering to each other in suspicious tones. Hermione knew that the sights and sounds of the battle had no mentally damaged her but the others seemed in doubt.

"Professor McGonagall, I am not hallucinating!" she started, slightly panicked. She turned back to the corpse, her fingers still rested on his neck. "I don't understand..."

She moved her hand and placed it lightly on his pale forehead just as a few others joined their small congregation. She would never be sure why she did it. Maybe it was simply a motherly gesture but what followed led to one of the biggest magical mysteries ever recorded.

The people observing in the dark didn't realise something had happened until Hermione lolled backwards in a dead faint, hand slipping away from his forehead and Snape's black glazed eyes focused suddenly to their original sharpness, closed and he began to breathe.

O

A taster. I could have gone into detail but I really didn't feel like it. I was writing this thing down as I saw it playing in my head like a movie. Maybe I should become a director... I could see all the perfect angles for the camera and when to end a scene... etc... that would work? Director and writer on the side. I like that.

Don't mind me blabbering on.

Ideas for plot lines (small things – seeing as I already have my major theme) are always welcome and great to read. I'm always looking to adopt and a plot bunny is a great pet (but I always end up feeling bad and release into the wild with all the other free plot bunnies running loose on ff net).

This is another one of those ones with no ending yet. I'm just gonna see where this takes me. I have a funny feeling this is gonna be a long 'un.

Snakecharmer

Review and make my day!


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